The Piper
by zobawbaw
Summary: The story of Bobby Winchester's death and resurrection and everything in between. Two-shot follow up of my story "Tell It to The Frogs", about Dean's daughter and her life as, well, Dean's daughter.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't know what's happening to me. After posting that last oneshot, I just wanted to keep writing about Bobby. I'm trying to make her as not-Mary-Sueish as I can, but I did want her to have something cool about her. Voila, necromancer!**

**Now, I know the way I portray necromancers is different than the way the show does, but I have an excuse. If you ever get the chance, read "Hold Me Closer, Necromancer" by Lish MacBride (or is it McBride?) and it's sequel. It's funny and odd and makes Monty Python references, so it wins in my book. But, I always thought there should be a wider definition to necromancy instead of "doing stuff with dead people" (which sounds a lot like necrophilia, but let's just leave that out completely). **

**I've started watching "Buffy" again, so the reference just slipped in. And my Doctor Who love peeked in as well. Because if I'm going to make a daughter OC, she's at least going to be a geeky OC. This is going to be a two-shot, so be expecting another chapter sometime in the next two weeks. I'm not sure when, as I have school and music stuff coming up, but I will try to get it up soon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters. I only own my OC, Bobby, and the plot.**

* * *

Came the last night of sadness  
And it was clear she couldn't go on  
Then the door was open and the wind appeared  
The candles blew and then disappeared  
The curtains flew and then he appeared  
(Saying, "Don't be afraid")

"(Don't Fear) The Reaper" -Blue Öyster Cult

* * *

She's just celebrated her 23rd birthday almost two weeks ago, so when Bobby wakes up around one in the morning to see an old man with a scythe standing over her, she's a bit pissed off.

She's too young to die.

* * *

"Come on, cutie, time to get up," Dean yells from the kitchen. They've got a big day ahead. Maggie and Amanda want to have a big family photo shoot in the snow today, so everyone needs to be fully packed and bundled before 11:30. But it's 10:53 and his daughter has yet to appear.

"Bobby!" Dean looks up the stairs, waiting for his (Oh, God) _23_ year old progeny to burst out on the foyer and start freaking out.

Nothing.

He's getting a little annoyed now. He marches upstairs, raising his voice to say, "Mary-Joan Winchester, if you don't get up right-", but he cuts off when he throws her door open.  
Because his daughter is still in bed, but she's not breathing.

"Help," Dean manages to squeak. He's taking slow steps over to the bed, looking at the body curled up in her "wubby", the quilt her mother made for her from his old flannel and t shirts. He finally gets there and barely grazes his fingers over her ice cold cheek.

There's this ringing in his ears as he picks her up and cradles her in his arms. He realizes he never stopped saying "help" and he starts saying it louder.

"Help. HeLP. HELP. HELP!"

But it's too late.

* * *

"Necromancers are special," Her mother croons in the back of her mind. "We help the dead. And God. We can live as long as we want, and when we choose to die, Death himself is our reaper."

This is what Bobby is thinking when she is suddenly transported from her bedroom to Brooklyn Bridge by Death himself. She's standing there in her Star Wars pants and Doctor Who shirt, barefoot and very confused.

"Did you know that over 150 people try to jump off this bridge each year?"

Bobby looks over at the old man. He's gazing over the water almost wistfully.

"More people try and kill themselves on Valentine's Day than any other day of the year, you know," she offers. Death's eyes snap over to her and he smirks. "Of course you know, you're Death."

"And you're Mary-Joan Winchester. The daughter of a necromancer and a hunter, an oxymoron."

"Gee, thanks."

"Simply stating a fact. There was only a slight chance of you being conceived, a smaller one of being a girl, and the smallest chance of surviving this long. And yet, here you are," he said, leaning against the stone railing. Bobby joined him.

"But I'm dead now, so what's the point?"

"The point? There is no point really. I've just decided it's time for your training."

"My mo-"

"Your mother never planned on making you one of her kind. But, you have a purpose to fulfill and you weren't going to fulfill it with them."

"I thought there was no point."

"Well, I lied."

They stand there in silence for a few minutes before Bobby speaks.

"Why did you kill me?'

Death looks over at her and smirks. "Did your mother never tell you _anything_ about being a necromancer?"

"Well, some stuff, I guess, like you being their reaper and the big "Those People Are Not Really Necromancers, They Are Blood Witches Who Think They're Necromancers" speech. But if she wasn't going to train me, like you said, why would she tell me any more?"

"Christ, you really are her daughter, " Death says and starts walking down the sidewalk, motioning for her to join him. "To have a full understanding of death and the dead, a necromancer needs to die themselves. Then they can start learning."

Bobby stares at him as they stroll down the snowy bridge, the lights of New York City lighting their way. "Learning what?"

"Blood magic, how to read and speak teloah, oth-"

"Teloah?"

"The language of the dead. Literally means "death" in Enochian. As I was saying, other forms of basic magic, how to create a book of worship, defense, secrets to the resurrection, yada yada yada."

"Sounds intense."

"It is. It will take a long time anywhere between a year to fifteen . Depends on how much effort you put into it."

By then, they had reached the end of the bridge and were standing on the curb, as if they were waiting for something, Bobby wasn't sure what.

"And who will teach me these things?"

"I will."

"Why?"

"As I said, Mary-Joan, you have a purpose. And a holy one at that."

Bobby contemplates this as a white Cadillac swoops up next to them. Death opens the passenger door and holds it as she gets in, cold air swooping up her pajama pant leg. Death appears in the driver's seat and raises his eyebrow at her. "Why are you staring at me?"

"If we're gonna do this, if you're gonna be the Giles to my Buffy, you're gonna need to start calling me Bobby. I'm not Mary-Joan, despite whatever records you have. I'm Bobby with a "y", not an "ie", or an "i". Just Bobby."

"Duly noted. And what is this "Giles" you speak of?"

"Ohmygod, really?"

* * *

**Onto Part Two!**

**Please rate and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Gah, sorry this is so late. I literally pick the worst week to try and write this puppy and then I decide to extend this another chapter today. I actually wrote the chapter that comes after this first, realized I had inserted an important character, then quickly wrote this today on my phone.**

**This productivity is freaking me out.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_Supernatural_****, its characters, or its plot. I do not own any of the songs or quotes used either. I only own Bobby, any character I created, and the plot of this story.**

"The movies make the brooding guy the hero – the guy with problems the guy who carries a gun, the gun with unresolved anger, the guy with a chip on his shoulder, the guy who's a vampire – and they tell you that you can have the mythical happy ending with that same brooding guy.  
But in reality, the brooding guy is cranky. He doesn't reply to emails. He doesn't call. He's only half there when you're talking to him, and he doesn't chase you when you run. You feel insecure all the time. You get needy and sad and you hate yourself got being needy.

If you don't know why he's brooding, you're shut out.

And if you do know why he's brooding, you're still shut out. (Because he's busy brooding.)"  
― E. Lockhart, _Real Live Boyfriends: Yes. Boyfriends, Plural. If My Life Weren't Complicated, I Wouldn't Be Ruby Oliver _

"She didn't belong anywhere and she never really belonged to anyone. And everyone else belonged somewhere and to someone. People thought she was too wonderful. But she only wanted to belong to someone. People always thought she was too wonderful to belong to them or that something too wonderful would hurt too much to lose. And that's why she liked him- because he just thought she was crazy."  
― C. JoyBell C.

"We can't be lovers because we both have mustaches. But since you're a lady, and I'm a gentleman, I'll shave mine off."  
― Jarod Kintz, _Love quotes for the ages. Specifically ages 18-81_

"Love is the jelly to sunshine's peanut butter. And if I tell you that I'm in sandwich with you, I'm not just saying it to get in your Ziploc bag."  
― Jarod Kintz, _Love quotes for the ages. Specifically ages 18-81_

* * *

Bobby meets Fedya three weeks into her training.

She's lying on the sofa one Saturday morning, afghan wrapped around her as she watches cartoons and eats her Fruity Pebbles (Many important things have happened while she's eating her cereal. She doesn't know it yet, but Fedya will propose over breakfast. Her doctor calls and tells her she's pregnant over a bowl. She's pouring milk over the multi colored flakes when a wet something suddenly runs down her leg and she goes into labor). Death is in the chair next to her, tapping his fingers impatiently, when the doorbell rings.

He stands up, but Bobby gets there first and, without looking through the peephole, swings the door open in a grand fashion and just stares.

The man is big. Like, really big. He's taller than Uncle Sam and about twice as wide. He's wearing a black tracksuit and the jacket's sleeves are pulled up, showing of his collection of tattoos on both arms.

Bobby's first thought is, "His hair is really hot."

Her second thought is, "Holy shit, he's gonna kill me."

The giant speaks, asking "This is a 7B?" only it comes out as, "Zhis iz Swewen Beh?"

"Um, yeah?"

Lucky for Bobby, Death appears behind her. "Fyodor! How wonderful to see you!" He ushers the thing into their apartment. "Thank you for coming. Would you like something to drink?" They continue into the small kitchen, chatting it up like old friends.

It turns out, Fyodor is there to teach her how to fight.

"What?"

"You need to learn how to defend yourself. I know you can shoot, but you're not going to have a gun with you all the time."

"But..but-"

"No 'buts'. You will do this. And Fyodor here will teach you."

"You suck." She says, glaring at Death. He smirks and turn back to the giant. "So, how's your mother?"

* * *

They start sleeping together a month before they start dating.

It started out simple: he was horny, she was horny, and there was a gym mat conveniently sitting in the middle of the room. And maybe it was satisfying that "good girl meets bad boy and rebels against society with him" urge just a bit.

And the sex was great, don't get her wrong. It wasn't wild banging or gentle love making, just nice, simple sex. Bobby walks away satisfied with no lingering feelings.

The same cannot be said for Fedya.

It happens on a weekend trip to New York. Bobby's been desperate to get out of the cabin and have a little fun, you know, not in the snowy wilderness of the Yukon. Death gives his permission on the condition Fedya (As she has taken to calling him) goes with. She pouts for a while before consenting and they magically appear in the Waldorf Astoria lobby two hours later.

She gets dressed up in a cute dress and some heels that she had convinced (AKA whined into submission) Death to buy her from Zappos, slaps a layer of mascara and lipgloss on, and hits the town (with her large, Russian bodyguard/self defense teacher/fuck buddy).

And, boy, it is awkward.

Bobby is propositioned by three men to dance. Each of them get a death glare and never approach her again. When a guy tries to buy her a drink, he is pulled roughly from her bar stool and told how he is not allowed to look at her for the rest of the night.

At first it's cute. Then it's annoying.

She doesn't remember her exact words, but she thinks at one point she called him "Buzz Killington" before stomping out of the club at 11:30. She goes back to the hotel, takes a hot shower, and reads while listening to a mix of 80s hair bands and Vampire Weekend.

Fedya comes back around 12:45, drunk and pissed off.

The door slams open and she looks up suddenly. Bobby's been planning on giving him a piece of her mind, but his eyes seem to say "I dare you", so she keeps quiet. He storms into the bathroom and slams the door loudly.

She can hear him taking a shower, so she turns up the music pumping into her headphones and waits for what seems like forever.

He finally opens the door, shirtless and wet and boy, oh boy, he looks pissed. She scrambles to her feet and is preparing her argument when, oh look, she's being pressed against a wall and being kissed rather roughly.

Oh, _my_.

Bobby's liked to imagine she's had good sex before. She lost her virginity to Cooper Mulligan in his car at seventeen. It had been uncomfortable and cramped and completely unenjoyably, but didn't that happen to everyone the first time? Her college boyfriend, Will, had been alright, bringing some experience to the bedroom (He later dumped her for a girl he met in his "Philosophy During the Holocaust". Honestly, who hooks up after meeting in a class about the Holocaust? The asshole).

However, this sex is completely different. It's hot and primal and rough and-and-just, wow. She can kind of hear "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" playing in the background and it's just perfect when everything explodes for a moment.

They lay there together, pressing kisses on shoulder blades and laughing at how stupid they've been. There's a feeling of "Oh, thank God, I've found you" in the air.

And it feels good.

* * *

She tells him her greatest secret one night.

Between the ages of four and seven, she lived with her aunt and uncle in Texas. This was because her mother and father abandoned her there to go on the lamb.

Maggie is a powerful necromancer and a very old one at that. And when you live a long time, you make a lot of enemies. After a deal with a demon went south, Maggie had to promise to be the last of her bloodline.

Which she didn't do.

But, being left behind by her parents wasn't the worst part. It was what happened before she went to Uncle Sam's and Aunt Amelia's.

Her mom was going to give her up.

She remembers Mom packing her up and dressing her up in her favorite sweater. She had her wubby and her Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal with her in the pickup Mom borrowed from Uncle Sam. And they were sitting in front of the adoption agency, her mother sobbing in the front seat, when the Impala rolled up.  
Dad was _furious_.

She's never seen him that mad. He practically hoisted her mother out of the truck, his face a bright red. She doesn't remember exactly what he said, but she thinks she heard a "MY daughter, too" and a "How DARE you" and a "Had NO RIGHT". He was livid, her mom was crying, and it was really overwhelming. But something happened, her mother said _something_, and Dad's face turned white (When she asks later, Mom told him that Bobby was showing the traits of a necromancer, that she was going to be hunted down and killed, but if they let her go, she could be safe). Her father wrenched open the door of the truck and gathered her up in his arms, wubby and all.

And then she was at Uncle Sam's, saying goodbye to her parents.

Fedya smooths her brown hair away from her face and promises that he will never leave her.

And he won't. She'll leave him first.

* * *

He says "I love you" one morning two months later, mumbled into her hair. It's scary and exhilarating at the same time.

Even more so when she says it back.

* * *

**Reviews are rewarded with a Winchester boy of your choosing and an affectionate "idjit". **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Vhat is zis? Two chapters in one day? Vunderbar!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_Supernatural_****, its characters, or its plot. I do not own any of the songs or quotes used either. I only own Bobby, any character I created, and the plot of this story.**

**"****'O, Death. O, Death.****  
****Won't you spare me over 'til another year?******

**Well, what is this that I can't see****  
****With ice cold hands takin' hold of me****  
****Well I am death, none can excel****  
****I'll open the door to heaven or hell****  
****'O, death' someone would pray****  
****'Could you wait to call me another day?'****  
****The children prayed, the preacher preached****  
****Time and mercy is out of your reach****  
****I'll fix your feet 'til you can't walk****  
****I'll lock your jaw 'til you can't talk****  
****I'll close your eyes so you can't see****  
****This very hour, come and go with me****  
****I'm death I come to take the soul****  
****Leave the body and leave it cold****  
****To draw the flesh off of the frame****  
****Dirt and worm both have a claim******

**O, Death. O, Death.****  
****Won't you spare me over til another year?"******

**-Traditional dirge, Author unknown**

* * *

**It's been almost two years since she died.******

**The medical examiner had been small, smaller than his 5'9, 150 lb daughter, so she'd needed help rolling out the body. Bobby had a panic attack in her sleep without waking up, they said, causing her to vomit. She suffocated and finally died around one in the morning, all alone, not giving out any signs of her distress.******

**His little girl.******

**His poor baby.******

**Dean's been okay, despite everything. Sure he'll walk by her room sometimes and feel that helplessness again. But the grief counselor had told them that just because it happened, doesn't mean you have to forget it. "Remember the good things about Mary-Joan. And the bad. We need the full picture to deal with the full loss."******

**Dean sets his beer down on the side table and wraps his arm around his wife. They're watching some Mel Brooks film that his wife loves and they're laughing at Gene Wilder and it's all okay and it's all good.******

**Not perfect, but good.**

* * *

**It's been about a two years since she "died".******

**Bobby has always hated athletics, so the self-defense unit was hell, but everything else has been pretty cool. She learned Teloah pretty quick (no surprise, she always got her best grades in French) and she's been compiling her book of worship pretty quickly. It's a catalog of every spell, every prayer, every ****_single little thing _****Death tells her to write down.******

**Yeah, she's pretty awesome.******

**Death has a nice little cabin in the Yukon where they've been staying (A little too "Rocky IV" for her liking), and everyday has been the same. She gets up, runs a bit, does some pushups and sit-ups and pull-ups and every other kind of ups you could think (Again, "Italian Stallion") . After that, she makes a big breakfast and they work on blood magic and the like for the rest of the day.******

**One morning, over coffee and ancient scrolls, Death says, "I think you're ready."******

**Bobby's head shoots up from her Fruity Pebbles. "What?"******

**"****I believe that you are ready to go back to your old life, knowing what you know now. And when the time comes for you to complete the duty God has assigned you, someone will find you."******

**Bobby is getting pissed off now. He keeps talking about her "purpose" this and her "duty" that, but he has yet to tell her what it is. "And who will they be?"******

**"I don't know."******

**"Bullshit."******

**"Perhaps. But isn't all of it, really." He pulls a cigarette from the pack of Camels lying on the table and lights it. Bobby wrinkles her nose as he blows a puff of smoke at her. Her father didn't smoke ("Watched you Grandpa try ta quit when I was 'leven. Turned into a major asshole."), though he admitted to chewing once in a while. Her mom had been an off-and-on smoker; there were times that Bobby couldn't get the smell out of her clothes. She detests tobacco. "If Fedya can smoke outside, you can too."**

******"I'm not your bear-of-a-Russian boyfriend, am I?"**

******That made her wince. "What am I gonna tell him?"**

******"Whatever needs to be said. But you need to do it properly"**

******"That's a lot. Too much. Couldn't I just leave?"**

******"I suppose. But it would be better to say goodbye."**

******"Says the thing that killed me unexpectedly in the middle of the night."**

******"What, should I have driven you to kill yourself? Jump of a bridge, take Daddy's shotgun to your head?" He says. Tears prick at Bobby's eyes as she stares dejectedly down at her cereal. "No, I gave you the greatest gift I could. I let you die untarnished. Knowing you family loved you and letting them know you loved them up until the last second."**

******Death's eyes seem to bore into her. "You are a coward, Mary-Joan. Perhaps the best kind of coward, because your cowardness comes from not wanting to hurt others. But that doesn't change the fact that you're a coward. But I have taught you everything you need to know and you have learned it. So, either be brave and say goodbye to the man you 'love' or be a coward and run away. You're very good at it."**

******He sits back in his chair, satisfied, and blows a trail of smoke out of his mouth. Bobby feels sick and pushes back her chair to run outside and vomit in the snow.**

* * *

**Two days later, she's lying in her bed, waiting for the right time to pull her boyfriends arm from around her waist and leave him. Bobby traces the tattoos that go down his left arm, all tough looking. Her boyfriend could be a pastry chef and still look like a thug.**

******She sighs and pulls herself free, careful not to wake Fedya. She didn't tell him. Maybe it's the drama of it ("Coward," Death says, "Coward, coward, coward."), but she's always been good at getting up and leaving. **

******Death's waiting in the living room, all somber and shit. He's holding a pocket knife and her sneakers. **

******"What are these for?" **

******"Some supplies that will be handy along the way. I'll make sure they get in there with you."**

******"In where?"**

******"You'll see."**

******They go out to the barn, stamping through the snow. Death's got everything set up for the ritual. All that's left is her.**

******Death hands her the knife and watches as she cuts a big gash in her arm; she lets the blood drip into a bowl. This takes a while, so a few minutes are spent in awkward silence (she tries to whistle but stops after a glare). Then the blood is poured in a circle, which she steps into before turning around. Death's standing there, just staring at her.**

******"What do I tell my family?" She asks.**

******"Nothing. I suspect if you do, I'll be summoned up by your father again and that won't be a pleasant chat." They lapse back in to silence.**

******Bobby smiles. "We never did watch 'Buffy'."**

******He nods and begins the incantation.**

* * *

**The "where" ends up being her coffin (She's now convinced she's in a TV show that Joss Wheadon created around her life). Death stuck to his word and the supplies are stuck uncomfortably against her side. She uses the knife to cut through the puffy lining and chip away at the wood. The soil is cold under her fingers and it takes a good two hours to reach the surface.**

******She's covered in dirt, she's sore, and apparently, her mother had her buried in the ugliest dress she owned. This evening sucks.**

******There's a BP station up the road with a pay phone. It's about 6 in the morning. Someone in her family must be up. **

* * *

**Reviews are rewarded with a Winchester boy of your choice and an affectionate "idjit". **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: What is happening? I never update this much. Ever.**

**So after much consideration, I've decided to continue this AU, crazy as it may seem (In reality, I couldn't let Meg just ****_die_****. She is one of my favorite characters. So, after last week's episode (Which was awesome for us dual Megstiel/Destiel shippers), I decided she needed a place in the Bobby universe).**

**So, here we go!**

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis." - Exorcism Proper

"Never trust a demon. He has a hundred motives for anything he does ... Ninety-nine of them, at least, are malevolent." ― Neil Gaiman

"Fair is whatever God wants to do." ― Leif Enger

"It may be unfair, but what happens in a few days, sometimes even a single day, can change the course of a whole lifetime..."― Khaled Hosseini

"The Prince of Hell shrugged. 'Shit Happens.'" ― Jana Oliver

* * *

Bobby Winchester never makes it home.

Well, she shouldn't say that.

Bobby Winchester's _body_ makes it home. But _she's_ not really there.

* * *

Working the early shift, you can meet a lot of creeps.

Cady LaRue sighs as she counts the cash in the register. She's been working at this gas station for three months and still hasn't made enough money to get those John Mayer tickets. Her parents had told her to get a job, 'cause they weren't paying for them, leading her to apply here.

Needless to say she hated it.

Cady glances up when the door chimes, watching carefully. It's this old dude, 'bout 60, in a cheap grey suit. "Hey there," she says, acting friendly, even though she gives less than a fuck, "You need anything?"

"Why, yes, I do think you'll be perfect." The man walks slowly up to the counter. Cady takes a step back, confused. He reaches the counter and leans on it, eyes turning black. "You'll do just fine."

* * *

God, she hates this dress.

Bobby tugs her chest, trying to get some breathing room as she marches down the road. She'd bought this back when she had been a C cup, but her boobs had gotten bigger, much to her delight and her father's disdain.

Bobby grins as the green lights of the BP station grew closer and closer. She is freezing and dirty and wanted to get home to her family. Her sneakers slap against the pavement as she jogs towards the door.

She pulls open the door and nearly fell on her face, the newly washed linoleum making her slip. Looking up, she spots an employee, maybe seventeen, looking at her.

"Uhm, hi."

The girl glares at her, snapping her gum loudly.

Bobby straightens up, immediately slipping into socially awkward mode. "Uh, could I borrow some change for the payphone? When my dad gets here, he'll pay you back."

The girl, her name tag says "Cady", doesn't say anything, but still hands her the change. Bobby takes it and goes to make her call. She's slipping the quarters into the machine when something catches her eye.

Sticking out of the edge of the candy aisle, there's a foot.

She turns around slowly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. The girl is standing there, her eyes all black.

Oh, _come on._

Bobby's pissed. She _just_ got back to the world of the living and now there are demons after her. This is totally unfair.

This day legitimately _sucks balls_.

The girl growls and Bobby snaps back to the present.

"Don't worry, kiddo, this won't be too painful." she says, stalking forward. Bobby breaks right, running towards the exit. The demon follows her and they skid around the store, Bobby fleeing and the girl chasing. Prey and predator.

Bobby feels the floor block her feet and she's falling, landing on the body of an old man. His skin is cold and her powers click in to tell her he's been dead for a good hour (They're annoying like that. Anything dead, be it a spider or a goldfish, she knows how long ago it kicked). She screams ('Cause, _dead guy_) and feels herself being dragged off the body. The girl's nails dig into her bare ankles and her dress is sliding up and, Jesus H. Christ, she's gonna be _possessed_.

The demon's grinning now, and all Bobby can think is, "_OhGodohpleaseohGodnopleaseno nonoNO_!"and then darkness.

* * *

Humans are a pain.

Meg ponders this as she pulls the old man's body out to the dumpster, the new Winchester meatsuit sweating. She's a good looking girl, tall and curvy, with her daddy's weird eyes and hair color. She reminds Meg of young Mary Winchester, back when she and Azazel were scouting her out. Very pretty, just in the wrong family.

It surprised her the kid didn't have a Pentagram tattoo herself. Taking over her body had been almost too easy.

Meg rubs her head as she set the man down. This necromancer shit was gonna be a pain; some of the properties had stuck with the body, like this constant reminder that the old dude had been dead for three hours. Her head ached and ached, like a constant punch to her brain.

Meg leans against the wall, a sudden searing pain exploding behind her eyes. "Oh, _fuck_!"

And through this blinding ache, she can (Dare she say it) hear the word, "_NO_!" run through her mind.

Meg straightens up, gasping for breath. The little shit was still there.

This was going to complicate things.

* * *

**Reviews are rewarded with a Winchester boy of your choosing and an affectionate "Idjit".**


End file.
